For Time and Eternity (12 page)

He overcometh all.

He saveth from the Fall.

His might and pow’r are great.

He all things did create.

And he shall reign for evermore.”

My voice mingled with the others, each of us sending little puffs of steam into the room. I never tired of hearing the richness of Nathan’s voice. Truthfully, neither did the congregation, as he was often called upon to lead the singing. But this morning he stood close beside me—too close for complete propriety, had we not six years of marriage between us. We were flanked on either side by our daughters, who sang just as robustly as any other Saint.

By the time we all settled in our benches after the time of singing and prayer had ended, the little stoves at the front and back of the building were glowing, and some semblance of warmth was working its way through the room. With my body pressed hard against Nathan’s side and Lottie in my lap, I was actually quite comfortable—enough that I could take off my gloves and place them beside me.

Elder Justus made his way to the front and took his place behind the satin-smooth pulpit that was Nathan’s pride and joy—the result of months of work ending in seamless perfection.

“Brothers and sisters,” he intoned. It was the voice that pronounced the blessing over my son, and the memory of it numbed me. “We gather here in the dead of winter, a month into the new year. The tenth since our people first entered into Zion.”

A little rumble of approval ran through our congregation, few of whom had been in the first company.

“We journeyed from persecution to prosperity. We tore free from the murderous grip of the Gentiles who would see us burned to the ground and instead have established a new kingdom of God. To think of the miracle of an inland ocean—the Great Salt Lake, our own Dead Sea. It is no mistake that Heavenly Father led us here, as we are the descendants and brothers of his chosen people.”

Indeed, we journeyed often to the lake in the spring and summer, and in the middle of this winter afternoon I found myself harking back to our last visit. The frothing of the water at the shore, the constant chatter of the playful shorebirds. Nathan delighted in wading with the girls, letting them float on the salty water’s surface while I unpacked a basket of lunch to eat on a blanket stretched over the sand. I could almost feel the warmth of the sun on my face, so much so that I actually closed my eyes for just a moment before Lottie shifted her weight and brought me back to Elder Justus’s sermon.

“Our city thrives, surpassing some of those cities that have been in existence for centuries in our country. It is a testament to the work of the Lord, our obedience to his will as revealed to the prophets.”

Agreement spread through the benches, for each of us took pride in the miracle of Salt Lake City. It was the jeweled reward at the end of our pilgrimage, a welcome final step to all who walked across the country. Even when we first arrived, all those years ago, I remember marveling at the perfectly aligned streets—all of it laid out in precise squares. The girls and I eagerly awaited any time we would get a chance to visit.

“And why do those folk in our city enjoy such prosperity? Are they harder workers than you?” An unvoiced yet understood
no
swept through the benches. “Are they more likely to tithe their money or their time?”

We were bolder with our protests now, at least those around me were. I clutched Lottie closer to me and turned an ear, feeling chilled after all.

“Ah, brothers and sisters, I urge you to look deeper into your hearts before you commit yourselves to the sin of religious pride. Perhaps you see yourselves as being out of the reach of the hand of the prophet, but no man can hide in the darkness of disobedience, not even if he makes his home in the shadows of the temple. For we are blessed to live so near God’s temple—oh, not the magnificent structure formed by the hands of men, but within reach of the very stones themselves. Such proximity should bring us to a deeper sense of obedience, but I fear the opposite has happened.”

There was an uncomfortable restlessness in the benches now as we simultaneously dared Elder Justus to tell us where we had fallen short and feared that he would do so. I glanced at Nathan, who stared straight ahead, his face set like flint.

“For we have had our share of disobedience, and I count myself the first among sinners. Not long ago, Brother Brigham requested that all families contribute to the production of silk, and I have yet to compel my wives to do so.”

Nervous laughter then, as no one that I knew had taken on the responsibility of nurturing silkworms in their kitchen.

“And what have we to show for our disobedience?” He pointed a finger that seemed to part us all like waters. “Brother Farley, how many sheep did you find dead in their grazing pasture last summer?”

We all knew the answer to that. Nearly a dozen, and we’d spent the better part of July in a frenzy of paranoid accusations.

“And, Sister Maelyn, have you found any relief from your ailment?”

I heard a chorus of rustling as my fellow Saints turned to look at Sister Maelyn, but I kept my eyes straight ahead. I didn’t need to see the woman to picture her gray pallor and wasted body. A few sympathetic clucks popped through the congregation before people returned their attention to the man behind the pulpit.

“And Brother Nathan Fox.”

No.

“The birth of a long-awaited son.”

No, no, no.

“As fine a boy as I’ve ever seen. A Saint sent from heaven, and he couldn’t bear to be here. Couldn’t will himself to live among us.”

I clutched the fullness of my daughter closer to me. Only the warmth of her body keeping me from turning to ice. And shattering. Looking to Nathan, I pleaded, silently,
Make him stop! Stand up and tell him he’s wrong!
But where Nathan would not look at me, every other eye in the congregation sought me out, and I equally froze and burned under the weight of their scrutiny.

Somewhere through the fog, Elder Justus’s words came coiling around me. “We are not free to pick and choose which spiritual laws of the prophets we will obey. Heavenly Father has called us to total obedience and has said that he will spew the lukewarm from his mouth. Our leaders have long taught the divine necessity of plural marriage. For how else are we to build Zion and fill it with the voices of children—the very spirits waiting to be born? Men, how can you hope to reach the highest reward in the next life if you do not build that which is pleasing to God in this one?”

What can I say? It was like a floodgate of fear opened within me. Like a blister perched upon my heart burst open. I felt the change in Nathan beside me. Felt him sit up a little straighter, the hard defiance in him dissolve.

I knew what these people believed. Nathan was convinced—as were they all—that marrying and having children was the path to celestial rewards. The more wives and children on earth, the more glorious his family in heaven. What better eternity could there be for a man who had spent his childhood unloved and alone?

“Listen,” Elder Justus said. “Listen to what your spirit is telling you right now. Feel that stirring in your bosom, leading you to confess your sin. Where are you lacking faith? Where do you see fault in your brother? your sister? We have been called to something higher. To be the new church of Jesus Christ. We are the Saints of a new day. Our ways are not the ways of the world. Our truth is not the truth of the Gentiles.”

By now the souls around me were stirring. Women weeping, men standing in their places, waving their hats in the air. I wanted to disappear, and in truth I don’t know that anybody would have seen me, so caught up were they in the elder’s stirring oration. In fact, I went so far as to tighten my grip on Lottie and edge slightly closer to the front of the bench, when I felt Nathan’s hand on my elbow.

“Stay there.” His grip punctuated his words.

“Make no mistake.” Elder Justus now had to nearly shout above the crowd. “We will come under fire for our faith. The Gentile-driven government will come down hard upon us. For they know not the truth of the prophets. Their hearts have not been stirred by the revelations of Jesus Christ. But did not each prophet in his time face persecution? Were not the first Christians stoned in the streets? And what if they had abandoned the teachings of their Lord?”

Just the thought of it brought an uproar. Elder Justus stepped away from the pulpit, coming out in front of it, and paced the narrow width of the room, his fist stirring the air.

“Come to me now and confess! There, in your seat, turn to your fellow Saint and confess! Fall to your knees and confess! You who are lacking in faith! You whose works are not worthy of heaven! You who have wronged your neighbor! You who have neglected worship! You who cling to your selfish desires like a blight in the eye of God!”

By now Lottie was terrified. She’d turned in my lap and wrapped her arms around my neck, her cold nose pressed up to my ear.

“What is he yelling about, Mama?”

“Nothing, darling,” I whispered.

Any semblance of decorum was gone. What there were of aisles filled with weeping women and pacing men. They fell in and out of embraces, their shouts fueled equally by accusation and rousing affection.

Somewhere in the midst of all this, Nathan let loose my arm, and when I felt him stir, I held out hope that he would lead us out. Instead, he stood beside me, his eyes and hands and arms lifted high.

“Heavenly Father!” His words sounded clear amid the din of the crowd. “Forgive me!” Then his hand was on me again. Through the layers of coat and clothing I felt each of his fingers digging into the flesh on my upper arm as he tugged, forcing me to stand beside him. “And forgive the sins of my wife.”

Shifting Lottie to my hip, I attempted to wrench myself from his grip. My actions called his attention away from heaven, and he looked down at me with a glare stoked with the fire of celestial authority.

“I told you to stay.”

“You will not confess my sins for me.”

“I don’t trust that you’ll confess them for yourself.”

“And how do you know I have anything to repent?”

The way that he looked at me answered my question. There in the chaos of this babbling crowd, everything stripped away.

A stirring beside him caught my attention, and I looked down to see Melissa clinging to him, her face buried in his sleeve. She was trembling.

“I’m leaving.”

“No, you’re not. Stay.”

One hard tug, though, and I was free. “The girls are going with me.”

I began to shoulder my way through the crowd, violently shrugging off the well-meaning hands that tried to detain me. The wall of noise surrounding me sounded no more like the utterances of worship than did the voices raised at the tower of Babel. In my heart I knew God did not look down on this with favor, and even then I knew much more would be required of me than simply walking away from this meeting. But it was a step, and at the moment, it was all I knew to do.

Once outside the stifling confines of our little church, tears spilled freely, making stinging, hard rivulets on my cheeks. I still clung to the girls, one small hand clutched in each of mine.

“Are we going to go back inside?” Melissa asked.

“No,” I said. “Not today.”

I lingered long enough for Nathan to come after us, but he didn’t. The volume within the walls increased, leaving doubt that any other Saint would dare to wander from the fold. So, with the promise of rabbit stew and dumplings awaiting us in the warm house, my daughters and I made our way down the frosty road to home.

Chapter 13

For two weeks after that Sunday, the chill of winter blew just as fierce within our home as it did outside. We did not speak, Nathan and I. He continued to tend to the morning chores, though now there was no pretense that he did so out of consideration for my feelings. I woke up each day to an empty bed, spent the day moving in wide circles around him when we found ourselves in the same room, and nearly ruined my eyes stitching by lamplight waiting for him to come in from his workshop in the evenings.

It didn’t take long for me to learn that he would not come in until I’d extinguished my lamp, so on especially cold evenings I blew it out early and climbed into bed, counting the minutes until I felt his weight beside me.

This silence, thankfully, did not extend to the girls. During those moments he was with them, he was as jovial as ever, engaging them in story and song like a self-appointed jester. I knew, of course, exactly what he was doing. He told stories of the Mormon heroes, sang hymns I’d never heard before coming here.

And I steeled my heart.

Somehow, the revelations of Joseph Smith took on a maliciousness I could never have recognized the first time I heard them. After all, these were not the warm summer days of our new love. This was a bitter, dark winter, one child in a grave.

One day as Kimana and I washed up the breakfast dishes, the sound of bells danced on the midmorning air. I looked out to see a beautiful cutter, shining black with blood-red runners, drawn by a team of four matching horses. I didn’t have to wait until the driver came into view for me to know who held the reins. I’d wrapped my shawl around my shoulders and was outside calling, “Rachel!” before she brought the team to a jangling stop.

She was dressed in fur from the top of her stylish hat to the trim on the skirt peeping out. Hopping out of the cutter, she hugged me close in a grip every bit as strong as the bear that once wore the coat she did now, then abruptly let me go when the girls flew out of the house and threw themselves against her.

“Where is that worthless brother of mine?” she said once the squeals had died down. “Someone needs to tend to the horses.”

After dispatching Melissa to fetch her father from his workshop, I linked my arm through Rachel’s and led her into the house. Kimana offered a quiet glimpse of a greeting before taking Rachel’s hat and coat to hang on a hook behind the door.

“I’ve come to take you away,” Rachel said, settling down at our kitchen table.

“Oh, have you?” I paused at the window to watch Nathan emerge from his workshop. As always, his cheeks took on bright red blotches in the cold, yet he wore only shirtsleeves. He did, however, put on his gloves before taking the horses’ reins and leading them into the barn. Melissa and Lottie skipped in circles around him, and he eventually stopped and gave a deep, princely bow before helping them clamber into the sleigh for a quick ride into the barn.

“Camilla?”

I didn’t turn around until I heard my name called again, this time accompanied by Kimana’s gentle tug on my arm.

“Goodness, sister,” Rachel said. “Your eyes are at the window, but it seems your mind is on the moon.”

“It’s a beautiful team,” I said, taking a seat next to her. “And how lovely to have such a nice surprise visit.”

“It’s not exactly a visit.” Rachel tugged her gloves off finger by finger and dropped them on the table. They were made from beautiful fur-lined calfskin with dainty pearl buttons. Without thinking, I reached out to touch them, wincing at the roughness of my own chapped skin. “I’ve come to steal you away for a while.”

“Oh, really?” The second glove landed on the table, and I ran my finger across its palm.

“It’s been so bleak and dreary, I thought I’d come whisk you away to spend a few days with me in town. Keep me company.”

“I hardly picture you lacking company. In fact, I imagine your household is fairly crowded.”

“True, but I thought you might come and stay a spell with Evangeline. Poor girl. Even if her father couldn’t speak, he was at least someone to talk
to
. I dropped in the other day, and she hadn’t even combed her hair. Imagine that. Ten o’clock in the morning, and barely dressed.”

“I don’t think I’m the person to cheer her up,” I said, thinking I knew well how it felt to spend hours in a house with no one to talk to.

“Nonsense. It’ll be just like the old days back on the trail. Just us girls.”

“What about Lottie and Melissa?”

“Bring them. They can stay at my house and play with their cousins. All of them,” she added, wrinkling her nose.

“I’ll have to ask Nathan, of course.”

“Of course.”

Kimana set a cup of water in front of Rachel, who lifted it daintily, sipped, and set it down again, never taking her eyes off me.

“Well?” she asked expectantly. “Are you going to talk to him?”

“Now?” I stammered, trying to cover my hesitance. “I thought you and I might chat a little first.”

“We’ll have plenty of time to chat on the drive.” She made a shooing motion. “Now, go.”

I attempted to match her playfulness as I rose from my seat. Before going outside, I asked Kimana to pack a bag for the girls, including one nice dress for each and their warmest nightgowns, and to lay out a few things for me as well. Then, shawl wrapped tightly about me, I opened the door to brace myself against the cold.

I could hear the rhythmic jangling of the sleigh bells accompanying the girls singing some silly tune. Nathan chimed in with an echoing baritone, and it pained me to think of how abruptly the music would stop the minute I stepped through the barn’s door. That thought alone kept me standing on the other side, listening, until a resounding, quasi-harmonious final note signaled the end of the song.

“Mama! Sing with us!” Lottie had herself ready to launch into another tune, but I held up my hand.

“Girls, go inside.”

“Did Aunt Rachel bring us something from town?” Melissa asked, wide-eyed.

“Yes,” I said, tugging her braid. “She brought herself. Now, go visit with her.”

Lottie and Melissa resumed their song, singing it all the way from the barn to the house. Nathan and I remained in our now customary silence. He had unhitched Rachel’s team, and now each horse stood, covered with a blanket, nibbling at the hay in the manger.

“They’re beautiful horses,” I said, laying one tentative hand on a chestnut flank.

Nathan said nothing as he hung the harness over a hook on the wall.

“She’s not planning to stay long.” My words lingered as steam in the silence. “In fact, probably just an hour’s rest for the horses. She aims to go back today.” He settled the pitchfork in its place. “And she wants me to go back with her for a visit.”

That captured his attention. His back was to me, but I saw the stiffness in his posture, the twitch of his shoulder blades as he squared himself to face me.

“You should go.”

They were the first words he had spoken directly to me since he fought to keep me beside him. And now he was sending me away.

“Are you sure?”

“Might do you good.”

He walked past me, back outside, where he began to inspect the sleigh from all angles, running his gloved hand along the runners. I was on his heels.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Just that maybe some time spent with Rachel will teach you a little bit about how to be a proper wife.”

Back into the barn he went, and again I followed. Perhaps I imagined the curiosity in the horses’ glances. On the far side of the barn was the door to Nathan’s workshop, and when he got there, he spun around and leaned against it, arms folded across his broad chest, creating a second barrier.

“I don’t want you to go in there.”

“I don’t care about your workshop.” And at the moment, I didn’t. “How can you say I’m not a proper wife?”

“You haven’t been, since the baby—”

“Don’t you dare.”

“You’ve shown no respect for me as the leader of this home.”

“How—?”

He rose up huge before me and pointed in my face. “You’ve abandoned any spiritual instruction for the girls. You haven’t been back to church. And you’re keeping me from being the man Heavenly Father wants me to be.”

“Nathan.” I reached out, touching him for the first time since I’d wrenched myself from his grip. “Don’t—”

He brushed my touch away; then, taking a deep breath, he gripped my arms, fingers digging into my flesh.

“All my life—” my neck snapped as he shook me, emphasizing each word—“
all my life
, I thought of nothing but the day I would have a family. A home. A wife. Children.”

“You have all that.”

“It’s not enough to have it here. I want this forever. And you’re taking that away.”

“I’m not—”

“We can never build a family in heaven if we can’t build one here.”

He loosened his grip then but did not let me go. I could have stepped away, but I stood, part of me grateful to hear his voice—no matter how ugly the words—and the rest of me longing to comfort him, despite his accusations. Slowly the brick wall of a man started to crumble; his grip grew to an embrace, and he pulled me to him. He whispered my name, and I had the distinct feeling that he was not merely holding me but clinging to me. I wrapped my arms around him and braced myself for strength.

“We have a fine family, Nathan.” I breathed deeply the scent of sawdust and winter. “And who knows? In time . . .”

“What? More children?”

“Maybe.” I rose up on my toes and kissed the warm hollow of his neck. “But if that’s what you want—”

Oh, how little it took to thaw the ice that had built up between us. His mouth was on mine, and I fell hard against him as I melted under his kiss. I felt like I was fifteen years old again, experiencing for the first time what it meant to be loved by a man.

“My wife, my wife . . .” He repeated the phrase as he dragged his mouth along my jaw to my ear, my neck.

“Yes,” I whispered, fully given over to his touch.

He took my hand and led me to the back corner of our barn, where fresh, clean hay formed a sweet-smelling hill that climbed halfway up the wall. From a shelf nearby he produced a thick wool blanket, and with one swift snap, it settled, crackling.

“Oh, Nathan. We can’t—your
sister
is in the house.”

“She can wait.” He pulled me close once again and, ignoring my protests—weak as they were—drew both of us down. “Long time since we’ve had a straw ticking.”

“And now I know why.” I fidgeted against the poking straw, longing momentarily for the thick feather mattress of our bedroom. But soon I could feel nothing but the touch and breath of my husband.

“And I love you, Camilla.”

“I know.”

“Have since the moment I saw you.”

I responded with a girlish giggle, still in awe that he chose me to love.

“Remember that.”

“I will.”

“No matter what happens.”

A tiny, dancing chill knotted itself around my spine. I opened my eyes wide and braced my hands against his chest, pushing him away. “What could happen?”

“I told you. I mean to have a family.”

“You
have
a family.” The hay rustled beneath me as I scooted away. “You have a wife and two daughters. And a son in heaven. And more, Nathan.” I reached out and touched his face, forcing him to look at me. “All the more that you want. All that I can give you.”

“That’s not enough, and you know it.”

“It’s what God has given us.”

“You and I alone can never fulfill the wishes of Heavenly Father, Camilla. How can one man and one woman ever do enough to build his church?”

We were both sitting up by now, side by side. I twisted a strand of golden straw around my finger, watched the fingertip turn violet, then let the straw go slack. Three times I did this in the silence that followed, all the while pondering—
one man, one woman
—all the while feeling the heated passion of the last few minutes dissipate, until I was nothing but a cold shell.

“How can you ask me to share what we have?”

“You already share me, darling. I belong to God first, then to you.”

“God began with just one man and one woman,” I said. “And we seem to have grown just fine.”

“But I don’t answer only to God,” he said, picking up a handful of hay and wrapping it into a cord. “I must uphold the teachings of the prophet as they were given by God. And he commands—”

“He has no right to command.” My outburst was loud enough, harsh enough to warrant a corresponding reaction from one of Rachel’s horses, who stamped her hoof in response. Instinctively I lowered my voice. “Joseph Smith was only a man. And Brigham, too. They cannot compel you to betray your very heart.”

He looked at me, his eyes steady. “And what makes you think they have?”

The tiny chill niggling at my spine exploded, filling me with a kind of cold that takes the breath away. Indeed, it had, as I fought for words. “B-because you love me. You said you love me. And if you do, how could you ever love—”